


my name, your name

by starswcream



Category: Buzz (Korea Band), Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24335104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswcream/pseuds/starswcream
Summary: Everyone remembers the moment when they were named. It symbolizes the beginning of your life. Now, your whole future lies in the hands of a single person: your soulmate.
Relationships: Kim Heechul/Min Kyunghoon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	my name, your name

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to write this up on a whim since i'm struggling with my other story, but i still want to have something out in the meantime. i hope you all take this cheesy short mini story as i keep working on the other!

_Between the ages seventeen to twenty-four, the name of your soulmate is to appear engraved on your body. Be it your neck, your thigh, your shoulder, the love of your life will be identified. Names are written in a way a cirrus cloud wisps against the blue sky, letters connected prettily and delicately._

_They say when you’re named, you have finally become an adult. Once named, one must immediately register themselves to the nearest Department of Named Individuals office in their area, at least within a week’s time. Being registered reaps the guarantees of which, most importantly, ensure financial stability for your lifetime on top of other benefits. These are improved once named couples register together as validated matches, such as meeting small business bank-loan requirements quicker or the ability to become homeowners faster than those unmatched. Committing relationship fraud,_ cessation _of relationships due to infidelity or otherwise will result in fines and a suspension in your registration._

_Of course, there is the population of unnamed people in the world. It is correct that there are cases in which names may appear past the age twenty-four, a significant minority. If you pass 24 years and are unnamed, the percentage of you remaining unnamed is as high as 99.3%. Unnames are commonly isolated and shunned members of society. They walk among us and are perceived to be as normal as anyone else. The moment they are revealed however… It is important we show kindness and understanding towards unnamed people._

_Being named is not all that great in the beginning. The beginning, that is, before being matched. Documented accounts of first being named have all described an excruciating pain on the location of their bodies where it appears, like you’re being torn open from the inside. This pain can last for as long as fifteen seconds. It is also said that soulmates are often named at the same time and on the same location. When soulmates are in closer proximity to one another, this pain will appear again with only about a third of the original intensity. It will disappear when the distance is either increased or when they finally close in on one another. This is covered by the D.N.I. as those who wish to ease it using prescribed painkillers if it either occurs too frequent or hurts an abnormal amount. Being matched will eliminate this pain._

_If you have any further questions, please contact the closest Department of Named Individuals office in your area._

\--

Everyone remembers the moment when they were named. It’s a day as important as your wedding or the birth of your first child. It symbolizes the beginning of your life. Now, your whole future lies in the hands of a single person: your soulmate. 

Kyunghoon was named prematurely. He was fifteen on a June morning, asleep in his grandma’s guestroom. Three A.M., lying sweaty on top of his bedsheets. He had awakened by mere chance as his body suddenly felt uneasy, but just passed it off as being too hot. The moment he sat up to open up his window his entire upper-body stiffened. He couldn’t move. Then a burning seeped through his chest, like a wound bleeding through a white shirt. It _burned_ and _burned_ and _burned_ . Kyunghoon’s hand balled into a fist and slammed at his chest repeatedly, not trying to make any noises as his family was still asleep. It quickly became unbearable and he clutched at his thin t-shirt uselessly. He called, no, _screamed_ , for his mother or father, just anyone. Not like they could help, he just didn’t want to be alone if this was how he was going to die at this moment. The moment his parents came in, Kyunghoon scrambled to his feet to run towards them, but fell to the floor immediately. He had lost all control of his legs and his breathing. His father took him into his arms while his mother wiped away the tears and sweat off of his face as he cried. Sucking in short breaths he could barely make while sobbing his throat raw was a feeling he had never forgotten. The hellish moment lasted for a record-breaking four minutes. He even ended up on the local news. It traumatised him, as it would to any other kid. 

His name was engraved further down the center of his collarbone, right on his chest. In times where he needs a bit of comfort or even when he’s lost in thought, Kyunghoon’s fingers would naturally gravitate towards the writing. Nothing happened when he touched it, but rubbing it gently or tracing the curves of the strokes somehow settled his spirit. Maybe others felt the same. Something that once caused him immense agony was now the only thing that could calm him down. Even now. 

Even now. 

Kyunghoon blinks and sees himself in his bathroom mirror. His hand was still damp from his night shower. His eyes went to his hand on his chest and his fingers over his name. 

_김희철._

The writing was thin and dark. Each character connected and curved perfectly, harmoniously. Like traditional calligraphy. 

( _“Can I…”_

_“Touch it?”_

He nodded. _“Yeah. If that’s alright.”_

A pause. _“Of course.”_

Kyunghoon guided the other man’s hand with his own, holding him by his wrist lightly. When he swept his thumb across the writing, the man smiled. 

_“It’s pretty,”_ he said softly. _“So pretty.”_

_“Thanks…”_

The man pulled away and took Kyunghoon’s hand this time, flipping it so his palm faced upwards between them. He swept his thumb across it in the same way he did to Kyunghoon’s name. 

_“It feels like this,”_ he said. _“Like the lines on your palm.”_ )

Kyunghoon’s hand fell to the rim of his shirt’s collar. It takes everything to not let it shake, but avoids it by balling into a fist.

The silence of his apartment is so pronounced, so nauseating, that the urge to make noise becomes a need in order to not be swallowed whole, or to even just feel present in time. The scant interior didn’t help as any sort of movement he made seemed amplified. Melancholy settles on him like a snake down his spine. He shudders, wrapping his arms around himself. 

It’s midnight, but he’s suddenly hungry. He turns on a dim light in his kitchen and searches through his fridge. He only really has some eggs and spare pre packaged chopped veggies to work with, so he takes those out with a huff. Gyeranmari is one of the first things he learned to cook from his mother, so thankfully he can speed through it on autopilot. Soft, fluffy, savory but mild, and ready in only about fifteen minutes. As he mixes the egg and veggies in a bowl, he turns on some music from his phone. His chopsticks clanked against the bottom of the bowl as he quickly stirred. _Make more noise. Make your own noise. Just because he’s not here anymore doesn’t mean you have to sit in his silence._

When you start making gyeranmari on the pan, usually you would roll and add in the egg bit by bit. Kyunghoon’s mom would add all of the egg in at once and roll from there because she’s far more of a capable human than anyone in a room to do something like that. Kyunghoon never got to her level, even nearing thirty years old. He doesn’t think he ever will. The process of adding and rolling repeatedly seemed to be somewhat calming anyway. The sizzling in the oil against the pan rose to the ceiling and the song hummed just as nicely. 

_I know that pain will eventually be forgotten_

_And destiny will come find me again_

_But why does a tear well up in my eye_

_And dampen my shoulder quietly?_

Kyunghoon turned the heat off and sniffed. It’s just a song. 

He transfers his gyeranmari from the pan onto a cutting board and takes out a pack of instant rice. He hasn’t made himself fresh rice in a while, but the instant suffices. He tears open the lid just a little bit and pops it in the microwave, watching it turn in the yellow light. 

Suddenly, he thought he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, pulsing in a low voice. Something like a warning. _No,_ he thinks. _Absolutely not._ Still, he cautiously (instinctively.) reaches for his chest, his eyes not leaving the rice in the microwave. He should be cutting the gyeranmari into bite-sized pieces right now but he was frozen. He took a deep breath and was disappointed to hear it come out so unstably. 

“He’s not here,” he said to himself. “He’s not, he’s not here. He has no reason to be. He’s not...” The pulsing was becoming stronger and his chest was beginning to sink into itself. It didn’t hurt yet, but Kyunghoon’s hold on his shirt was becoming tighter with every second that passed by. The whirring of the microwave faded from his grip on reality. He closed his eyes and slid down to the floor, the side of his head against the counter. “He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here…”

And then the growing sped up to the real pain he’d been denying (dreading.) up until this point. _The burning seeped through his chest, like a wound bleeding through a white shirt. It burned and burned and burned._ He hugged his knees and pressed his forehead to them, trying not to cry. He failed. His attempt to control his breathing was disturbed by his sobs. There was no strength in him to even try to stand back up. 

“It hurts…” he whispered. “He knows it hurts...and he’s still coming…” He grit his teeth in anger. And agony. “I hate him.” 

Kyunghoon’s body was taking more than it could handle. He crawled his way up to his feet and knocked over a couple dishes on the counter top trying to walk towards the front door, because he knows he’s here now. He could not have made the announcement any clearer. 

Then the doorbell rang. 

Kyunghoon stood in his walkway, his chest heaving and his eyes bleary. The core of his body felt like molten lava. He straightened his back with much effort and walked to the door. He pressed the speaker button. 

“Kyunghoon?” 

The sound of his voice. It trapped him. Kyunghoon took his finger off the button weakly and rested his forehead against the door. The throbbing in his chest eased, but only slightly. Still, it made him want to just pass out instead of feel anything. 

“Kyunghoon…?” 

He wiped at his eyes. He has to get his hands to stop shaking. He has to slow his breathing. He has to control himself. He’s a grown man.

“Kyunghoon. I know you’re there.”

Something triggered in Kyunghoon and he mustered everything in him to swing the door open fiercely without a second thought. “How the hell would _you_ know,” Kyunghoon said. His voice was quieter than he would’ve liked, but his rage seethed through. “You’ve never felt my presence in your entire life.” 

Meeting eyes with Heechul almost made him fall to the floor again. His dark hair was longer, almost reaching his shoulders. It was tied back with pieces in the front framing his face. Everything else (down to that stupid white hoodie and those stupid black transparent pants he shoved in everyone’s face and his stupid bright red slipper shoes) was the same since he last saw him. Since he left him. 

_I know that pain will eventually be forgotten_

_And destiny will come find me again_

_But why does a tear well up in my eye_

_And dampen my shoulder quietly?_

Those big, round eyes stared back at Kyunghoon, as if time itself had stopped for them to take in one another. They’ve seen this version of each other countless times, woken up next to each other as they were right now. Yet they were looking at the other as if it were the first time. Kyunghoon would never say it outloud to anyone, but he wished it was the first time. Maybe then he would be happier feeling the ache he was burdened with. At this, he snapped himself back into consciousness. 

“You have some nerve coming here.” Kyunghoon said. 

Heechul’s gaze softened, pitifully. “Is it that bad?” His hand pointed to his chest: the exact spot where his name is engraved on Kyunghoon. “There?” 

Kyunghoon rolled his eyes. “What do you think.” _It’s worse than anything you can imagine._

“Kyunghoon, you don’t look good. I think you need to sit down.” 

“I think you need to leave.”

Heechul sighed. “Not yet. I mean, I just got here.” 

Kyunghoon blinked, several times. The tone of the other man’s voice was pissing him off. “Excuse me?” He scoffed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You’re cursing a lot more than usual--”

“ANSWER ME.” 

Heechul jumped at Kyunghoon’s sudden volume, then relaxed right away. “I was just, you know, in the area…” 

Kyunghoon was not about to be entertained. His nostrils flared before closing the door, but Heechul stopped it with his foot. 

“Sorry, wait,” Heechul said. “Just...let me in. Please.” 

Kyunghoon gripped the doorknob. 

“Please.” 

Kyunghoon felt himself widen the door open and wanted to kick himself bloody. He watched his ex walk in, taking his slippers off. Such a small, unimportant sight, but one that was so excruciatingly familiar. 

( _“I’m home,”_ Heechul said, smiling brightly. He kicked his red slippers off and neatly placed them by the door. _“How are you, soulmate?”_

Kyunghoon watched him fondly. _“I missed you.”_

_“You did?”_

_“Mhm.”_

Heechul and Kyunghoon’s smiles grew wider as the distance between them closed in. Kyunghoon wrapped his arms around the other man’s shoulders and placed a light kiss on his forehead. 

_“Did you eat anything?”_ Heechul asked. _“We can go out somewhere.”_

Kyunghoon shook his head, slightly pursing his lips. _“Let’s just stay in.”_

Heechul nodded. _“Okay.”_ He cupped Kyunghoon’s face in his hands. _“And by the way, I missed you too. A lot.”_

_“Yeah, you better have.”_

_“Hey!”_ Heechul laughed. They both laughed. Together. ) 

They sat on opposite ends of the small, grey couch. Kyunghoon had his head in his hands, his body finally calmed down but still heated. Heechul gazed at him with droopy eyes. 

“Are you going to eat what you made over there? It’s probably cold by now.”

“I lost my appetite.” 

“Oh.” 

More silence. 

“You’re so pale. Your hair is still damp. If you don’t dry it, you could catch a cold.” 

Kyunghoon lifted his face up, still not looking at Heechul. “You are in no position to be nagging me.” 

“It’s not nagging...It’s caring.”

“If you actually cared about me you wouldn’t have come here.”

Heechul shifted and put his hands in his hoodie pocket. He looked down, his eyebrows creased in thought and regret. “You told me the pain is so much worse after named people leave their matches. As bad as when you were first named. You must feel awful. I’m...so sorry.”

“And here you are.” 

“But I needed to talk to you, okay? And I couldn’t reach you because I didn’t know you changed your number. So I drove here. Kyunghoon, look at me.” 

He did. Kyunghoon looked at him. Heechul’s guilt deepened in his face. “I feel really bad for bringing this up.”

Kyunghoon blinked. “You should. I hope you feel bad about it until you die.” 

Heechul looked down again. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I came because…” He met eyes with Kyunghoon again. “We...We didn’t file…”

Kyunghoon cut Heechul off when he scoffed. Loudly. Bitterly. “File our cessation? That’s rich. What’s there to file? We were never really matched, were we? _Unnamed_.” He spat the last word. Heechul bit the inside of his cheek. 

“You know what would’ve happened if we were exposed--”

“Isn’t lying worse?” Kyunghoon asked quietly. “We committed a fraud relationship. You lied to me.” He felt the tears coming back. “You told me you had my name on you-- You told me you were named when you’re _not_ ,” he hissed. “You…” 

Heechul stared at him with wide eyes. The words tumbled out like a river, like a demon shaking loose. 

“You made a complete fool of me.” 

Kyunghoon burned holes into Heechul’s head with his stare for a little longer before wobbling up from the couch. He overestimated himself at the moment and stumbled forward, but felt a hand grab him by the wrist before he could fall. He ripped his arm away, not letting Heechul hold him for a second. He didn’t look at him. He stood there, facing away from Heechul because if he kept looking at him he may actually turn to ashes. 

“Appealing for our match...I was so scared.” Kyunghoon said, the words escaping him like a last breath. His lips trembled. He doesn’t want to cry. He has cried enough. “I was scared that we weren’t actually soulmates, that maybe your name on me...Maybe it was wrong somehow.” His hand found its way to where it’s best comforted: the engraving of Heechul’s name. “Do you realize how happy I was when we matched? And then how upset I was when it turned out you paid for a fake confirmation to save your own self?” He lowered his head and tightly shut his eyes, hot tears freely falling. His voice dropped to a whisper, no longer edged with fury. His fingers spread and clawed at his name. “When you told me you loved me, were you lying then too? Did you ever love me?” 

Heechul held Kyunghoon’s free hand behind him. He interlocked their fingers slowly. But he said nothing. 

“You never loved me?”

“Kyunghoon...” _I always have, always will, and it’s always only been you with or without stupid names and I’m so sorry, I really am, but if you want to...please, can we try just one more time._

Kyunghoon turned his head. Heechul looked directly into his eyes, his face teary and remorseful, but full with the tenderness that Kyunghoon remembers he saw in the boy he met years ago. And hope. 

It is enough.

_**END.** _

**Author's Note:**

> the lyrics are from the song tear drop by roy kim :) please be kind to my mistakes. thank you for reading!


End file.
